


we are the same, made the same mistake. we fell in love... it made us stupid.

by SufferHope_GracelessHeart



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 5+1 Things, And generally insane., Angst, Crazy, Desperate, Episode s02e07 State vs. Queen, Episode s02e08 The Scientist, Episode s1e21 The Undertaking, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e23 Sacrifice, Episode: s02e06 Keep Your Enemies Closer, F/M, Family Secrets, Friends With Benefits, Friendship/Love, Gen, Husbands and Ex-Wives, Husbands and Wives, Insanity, Love makes you, Mothers and Daughters, Multi, fathers and sons, friends - Freeform, hopeful, psychotic, strong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:32:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SufferHope_GracelessHeart/pseuds/SufferHope_GracelessHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a.k.a six times that love made the decisions for a resident of Starling City </p><p>Love affects different people in different ways, none of them being especially rational. Especially when you've lived your life in a place like Starling City. Love can make you do the most amazing things in your entire life...or the most terrible. It's a catalyst. One that cannot be controlled or defined...much less predicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Robert Queen: A Father's Love

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is actually a line paraphrased from Elementary.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert Queen was not the best person on the face of the planet. He also wasn't the worst. Hero? Villain? Paragon? Pariah? None of those words would ever truly fit. The only definite thing about Robert Queen was that he loved his son.

Robert Queen

_“Survive.”_

     For Robert Queen, using the book was a way to atone for his mistakes. Find the most corrupt people, gather evidence and _strongly_ suggest they donate their ill-gotten gains for the betterment of others. The Glades Book Reconstruction Project known to some as Tempest, was quietly, steadily improving the streets of Starling City. They were even making in roads in attempting to improve the Glades. So when Malcolm Merlyn called an early meeting, Robert assumed it was for a time sensitive issue on one of the names on the List.  In his wildest dreams and his most devastating nightmares, he never could have imagined the outcome of this meeting.

     

     “We’re emptying the Atlantic with a tablespoon. For years, we’ve been forcing the city’s worst to do what’s best, leverage them to help us save the city, but it’s not working.” Malcolm began. “Crime in the Glades is rising. The cancer is spreading.”  Robert tried to convince him their plan worked, was working. “We just need to take more time,” he said calmly. He hadn’t even finished his sentence before Malcolm asked if the people in the group’s families had had more time. Saying that mercy hadn’t been given to those who had been lost. Saying all the work that they had done was for nothing.

     He had abandoned all hope for the Glades.

     “…in favor of a new Undertaking. Like Ben Tre in Vietnam. The village must be destroyed before it can be saved.” he finished. There were more details. How they could do it without being caught, how it could look like a natural disaster, but Robert could only focus on the devastation. The idea of 24 square blocks of nothingness, no, not nothingness, not emptiness, but of people dying, struggling, buildings falling on top of them. Robert had only seen one person die, one person struggle for his life after seeing him fall. Twenty-four blocks of that, he couldn’t even imagine, couldn’t even conceive. Not only was what Malcolm planning mass murder, but an earthquake would leave casualties, injuries, people broken and tormented by what they’d seen, what they’d suffered. It was everything Robert joined the Project to prevent.

      Robert tried to convince Malcolm his plan was insane, mass murder, but he wouldn’t listen, he was too wrapped up in his own pain, in losing Rebecca.  So were the other members of the Project. They had all lost someone to the Glades. Robert had taken someone from the Glades. He had a different perspective. After talking to Malcolm, he thought maybe he was wrong, maybe he wasn’t seeing things clearly, so he confided in Moira, they were having their own problems, but she convinced him, more than anything else that what Malcolm was planning was no better than all the crimes they had been trying to prevent. So Robert took matters into his own hands and began to plan an Undertaking of his own.  He’d start with the one person who seemed as unsettled by this as he was, Frank Chen.

 

 

       As they floated in the ocean, Robert stroked Oliver’s hair and wiped away his tears.

       He had been weak. Indecisive. And now his son was paying the price. He’d trusted the wrong people, made so many mistakes. And now, he was floating in the sea with his son barely coherent, in shock from the weakness and exhaustion, the toll of making it to the life raft. Robert knew Malcolm had been behind this. He knew the Queen’s Gambit like his own soul and this had been planned, detailed and executed. He knew he had just become an obstacle to Malcolm’s quiet rage. A name to check off on a list- he wondered if he had been added to Malcolm’s book, to the project, or if Malcolm had another list of his own that none of Tempest knew about, one for people who just got in the way.

        Despite his disapproval, he knew Sara’s death would haunt Oliver for the rest of his life. That Robert understood. It was his guilt that had put them in this situation to begin with. He looked at Oliver resting on his shoulders and prayed he’d be a better man than his father. That he’d know to keep his people, the _right_ people to keep close. As he looked into his son’s face, he knew what he was going to have to do. Robert knew children should not die before their parents.  Oliver should be safe at home right now, but Robert had always been the “fun” parent. Once again, letting Oliver skip out on his responsibilities and join him for three weeks at sea, with his girlfriend’s sister, no less. He had wanted to explain the Undertaking to him along the way, somewhere peaceful, but now he couldn’t. And he couldn’t watch his son slowly die because of his sins.

        He knew that Oliver was more than the paparazzi saw. Maybe even more than Oliver saw himself. He knew his son’s strength. His compassion. His heart. Robert’s mistake had been letting everything else get in the way of showing Oliver that those were the important things; not the easy trapping of wealth he often got caught up in. Despite all the mistakes he’d made with Oliver, Robert knew Oliver could do what he could not and even if he couldn’t, he couldn’t let his son die this way. Not when there was something that he could do about it. It was a heavy burden he was going to lay on his son, but Oliver could handle the weight. Robert saw the man he could become. The man he _would_ become. And on a life raft rocking in the middle of a storm, Robert took the first step towards making him.

        “I’m so sorry. I’m not the man you think I am,” Robert yelled over the storm. “I didn’t build our city. I failed it. And I wasn’t the only one!”

 

 

        It was quiet now. The sky was clear. It was time. There was so much he wanted to tell Oliver, how much he loved him, how much hope he had that Oliver could do what he could not. But all that would just get in the way. More words would just make this confusing, harder for Oliver to parse through in his grief. Better to keep it simple, brief.

        “You can survive this. Make it home. Make it better. Right my wrongs. But you gotta live through this first.” Robert shook Oliver. He didn’t even know if he understood what he was saying. “Do you hear me now? Do you hear me, son?” Oliver was his last chance at redemption. Robert could try to make it back to civilization, but risking Oliver was just too great of a chance. At least this way, Oliver would know how much he meant to his father.

        “Just rest, Dad,” he mumbled back. Robert would rest. Be at peace himself, for the first time in a very long time. He kissed his beautiful boy one last time.

         The first shot woke Oliver up, screaming. As Robert looked into his son’s disbelieving eyes, he knew Oliver would need something to hold on to. A hope, an ideal, a promise, a vow. Not just to right his father’s wrongs, but to sustain him, make him persevere, to help him prevail over what was to come.

_I love you, Oliver._

 

“Survive.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also there is a Fringe reference in this chapter. No, you did not just imagine it. And if you didn't see it, go find it!


	2. Malcolm Merlyn: A Husband's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people would say you can never have too much love in your life. Those people have never met Malcolm Merlyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's reality and then there's the story that Malcolm Merlyn tells himself to get through the day. Guess which one this is?

Malcolm Merlyn

 

_“She kept calling my name. I listened to my wife dying over and over. “_

           Malcolm Merlyn was looking at the sky, wondering what the skyline would look like after everything was said and done.  Would Rebecca like it, love it, even?  So when his son walked in, tossing his jacket around, he believed it was a sign from her. Their son, fierce and angry, just like he was.  Tommy’s fury was a blessing from his love.

          “It’s over. Laurel and me, I mean. She’s with Oliver again. Always.”  Tommy said.

          “I’m sorry, son. “

          “He said you wanted to nuke the Glades or something. It’s funny; Scotch doesn’t make it any more believable. Maybe after your jihad, we can grab some steaks,“ Tommy finished.  

 

 

(He didn’t understand. Rebecca would make him understand.)

 

 

          “It’s true, Tommy. It’s the reason I closed your mother’s clinic. I didn’t want to see it leveled." he said simply. 

 

 

 

(He was going to build it all again. Brand new, better than Rebecca had ever imagined it).

 

 

 

          “What?” Malcolm could hear the disbelief in Tommy’s voice.   (Tell him, Rebecca.)

            “I have something I’d like you to listen to. The night your mother died, she called me. I woke to a voicemail of her.“ Malcolm said calmly. (One small lie wouldn’t, won’t hurt, Rebecca. I’d have picked up if I had known.)

            “Dad?”

           “Her final gift to me.” (And to Tommy. And to all of Starling City)

 

 

 (But first, Tommy.)

 

 

           He knew every word. Every breath, every pause and every quiet hitch of pain. His mouth moved silently with the words that she tried to get out.

 

           “Turn it off.” Tommy said.

  

 

 (Her voice…) 

 

 

            “No one would come.”  She and Malcolm spoke together.  A benediction.

  

 

   (Her son should know what a gift she was going to give to her city. He should understand.)

  

 

            “She bled out into the pavement while people passed and did nothing.” Malcolm said, “Your mother built her clinic in the Glades because she wanted to save this city. It can’t be saved...”

 

 

   (I will cauterize your wound, Rebecca)

 

 

          “…because the people there don’t want it to be saved.” Malcolm explained to Rebecca’s son.

          “So you kill all of them?” Tommy asked.

    

 

 

  ( _His_ wife bleeding in the streets. Alone. Alone and people passing)

 

 

 

           “ **Yes!** They deserve to die! **All of them!** The way **she** died!” Malcolm shouted.

 

  

 

 

 (Your city will finally be safe tonight, Rebecca)

 

Robert thought this could be stopped.

Moira thought this could be stopped.

Tommy thought this could be stopped.

 

They didn’t understand why Rebecca died.

 

Oliver went after the Black Archer/Malcolm Merlyn, and the device in subway at the same time. Diggle was with him and Felicity was floating in Lance’s ear.

 

          He’d kill Oliver peacefully, a sleeper hold. Even with her betrayal Moira deserved that much. He had more plans. Moira, then Thea, or maybe the other way around so Moira can watch another one of her children die all over again. Then there was pain and for just a moment, the Archers were connected.

          “Thank you for teaching me what I was fighting for.  But my father taught me how.” He could hear Oliver above him as everything became dark.

           There‘s pain.

           “It’s over.” Robert’s son says.

  

  

(They shot me. I screamed for help, but nobody would come)

 

Oliver thought this could be stopped.

 

They were all wrong.

  

  (She bled out into the pavement while people passed and did nothing)

 

 

              “If there’s anything I learned as a successful business man, it’s… _redundancy.”_

 

  

  He(She) bled out into the pavement while Oliver and his “bodyguard” (people) passed.

 

They did nothing.

They could do nothing.

   

 

(I didn’t finish it, Rebecca, ) The sounds of crumbling buildings comforted him. 

 

  

 

(But they’ll all know how you felt. Just like I do now.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. For anyone who missed or wasn't paying close attention to"The Undertaking" (the episode, not the event) Malcolm actually let the calls go to voicemail and was annoyed that she was interrupting him. He confessed this to Robert when he was explaining the Undertaking (the plan of the event during the episode) The word Undertaking was used a lot in Season 1. 
> 
> P.P.S. I spent way too much time on the literal spacing of this story. I would still be fixing it if I could.


	3. John Diggle: Exceptional Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Diggle has been there for everyone he loved, save one time in his life that is still haunting him. This is the story of him making damn sure that one time doesn't become two.

John Diggle

 

_“Hey Johnny! These days I check the box marked single, too.”_

 

     John Diggle had been a lot of places before he met Oliver Queen.  He had not, however, gone anywhere on a private plane. He had definitely not gone to anywhere on a private plane and then had a strategy meeting with the Russian Bratva just after clearing customs. With vodka.  He had a silent argument with Oliver over the vodka. Oliver, of course, won that one, because again – Russian Bratva.

     Now he was looking down at a massive amount of drugs provided by the previously stated Bratva member just to get caught on purpose.  After he found Lyla and she was safe and sound and back on American soil, he made a note to ask Oliver what the hell he had done for Anatoli to get him to help with intel, facilitate the purchase of a prison transport truck, and provide them with a shitload worth of drugs that he would probably never see again. Felicity must have been thinking along the same lines, at least about the drugs, because her brain-to-mouth filter failed again. “Well, that is a lot of drugs.” She stated.

     “Courtesy of Knyazev, I’ve enough weight to land me into Koshmar,” he replied. He could feel Felicity’s gentle touch of reassurance before she moved on to the next thing. “You need to be wearing this when they process you. Guards’ll take it, but that’s the point.” She said in a somber voice. She reached for her tablet to show him a picture. “This is Knyazev’s man inside the prison, a guard. “

      “He’ll know where Lyla’s being held” Oliver continued. Felicity pulled up a map on her tablet. “When all hell breaks loose, you need to meet us at the rendezvous point with Lyla or…

      “Or I am a permanent Russian. “  Diggle joked,  trying to take the words and the burden they carried off Felicity’s shoulders.  Between Oliver’s face and Felicity’s lack of Freudian slips, Dig could feel the doubts bouncing between his team. “Just thinking out loud, but are we sure this is the best plan that we can come up with?" Felicity started. "I know Lyla’s your friend but…"

      After all the two of them had done to get him here, he knew it was time to lay his cards on the table. At least, if they knew, if this all went wrong, they’d understand what he gave his life for.

     “Felicity, Lyla’s isn’t my friend. She was my wife. “

      Wife. God, what an incomplete shallow word to explain everything  that Lyla was to him. What do you call the person who kept you alive at the end of the world? How do you explain you found one good thing in the midst of blood and sand, friends dropping all around you? Knowing there was always someone at your back. Someone to go to, to absolve you of your sins after protecting a piece of filth because of _orders_ from up top. The war had brought them together, but it had also torn them apart. Still, she was there for him when he lost Andy, when he needed help. Hell, she had probably kept A.R.G.U.S. off Oliver and Diggle's back considering how hot finding the vigilante was in Starling City. Lyla, marriage or not, was a constant in John Diggle’s life, a connection he had managed to not totally screw up. He wasn't about to screw it up now, especially when all evidence pointed to the fact that she was in Koshmar because of _him._ His crusade had already put her in the line of fire once. Now she was rotting in a Russian jail because of a lead that may or may not have lead to Deadshot? He would be exactly where he was right now, without Oliver's connections or Felicity and Knyazev's intel. He would have walked up to the prison wall with a hammer and chisel and an illegal weapon from in country, just in case. Lyla was just that important. He wasn't losing anymore family to Deadshot. Directly or indirectly.

    “I can’t leave without her, Felicity, I just can’t. “

 

 

    Lyla had found Deadshot. Deadshot had Lyla’s location. Knowing where she was meant he lived. For now. After Lyla was safe? All bets were off. 

    And there she was. Bruised and broken and _beautiful._   “Johnny, you came for me.” she whispered.  _That_ was the simplest thing about the insanity he’d found in Koshmar. “Always have, always will.” he replied with a smile. 

    Deadshot lived. But so did Lyla. Andy would have made the same choice.  He would have understood.  He knew Lyla was always the exception. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked the character of Lyla, but I was right there with Felicity when she said. "Explain that sentence." I love that this show can still surprise me.


	4. Felicity Smoak: Filtered/Unfiltered Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity Smoak takes care of everyone around her, especially the two guys who have a tendency to try to kill themselves using other people. It takes her awhile to realize why.

Felicity Smoak

 

_Oh my God, you said you were going to pull your punches. Let me get you an ice pack for…everything?_

 

Up until about a year ago, Felicity had a pretty predictable life. Most people would think the exact moment things went off the rails was “Felicity Smoak? Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.” It wasn’t. It went off the rails when she met Oliver Queen in a restaurant on a rainy night and asked if she could trust him, despite the fact he was quite frequently lying to her face. It went off the rails when she admitted she _knew_ she could trust him despite the fact he was lying to her face. Before that, she went to work, she came home, watched what some would call nerdy things on the DVR or went out with friends. A boring I.T. girl life, with a few glitches like the boss’s stepson asking you for bizarre favors, or you know, the boss getting kidnapped after asking for your help. It was the life she was supposed to go back to after finding Walter, putting everything back on its appropriate track.  But then there was the figuring out the Undertaking, and what it had to do with the Glades. And then there was the actual Undertaking, and being trapped in an underground bunker during a man made earthquake. After the Undertaking, there was clean up and making sure _someone_ kept an eye on Thea (even if she didn’t know it) and by extension, Roy.  Then there was the threat of takeover and finding Oliver. Somewhere in the middle of all of that, Felicity gave up on boring, on going back to who she was. Some people might think she did all of this because of Oliver, but it wasn’t. She _liked_ helping people, knowing she could do something no one else could. Not even John with all his years of Army training or Oliver with whatever hell he went through on that island, the island with _live mines._ Who leaves live mines on a deserted island? It really wasn’t deserted, though, was it? She’d seen Oliver’s scars and his tattoos. Did no one wonder how Oliver Queen got tattooed on a “deserted” island? Three, two, one. She believed in Oliver and John, and in helping people. And she could help people in ways that neither of them could. 

So she wasn’t even an I.T. girl anymore. Surprisingly enough, after her temper finally cooled down, she realized that being Oliver’s Executive Assistant was a job she was already qualified for. Organizing information, making sure everything was prepared, getting Oliver where he needed to be when he needed to be there. It was pretty much what she did for the Hoo-, The _Arrow_ only with less gunfire and killing and people who were vicious behind your face, not in front of it. To be honest, she preferred the gangbangers and criminals over corporate America. At least, you knew they exactly what they wanted and how they planned on getting it.

She took care of her boys, covered their tracks, made sure they had the best equipment, the best intel, a new and improved Arrowcave, (Oliver gave her what he thought was his death glare every time she called it that. It was more of his “What did I do in a former life to get Felicity Smoak running my every move in this one?” glare.) Diggle just laughed at Oliver’s exasperation. She was the one who made sure someone actually looked over the wounds they got. (Diggle checked Oliver’s, Oliver checked Diggle’s and she nagged them both when they tried to hide the fact that they had been wounded at all from her. All the while learning how to patch them up from watching them patch up each other.) She was the one who covered for Mr. Queen, CEO, who was perpetually late for everything. She was the one who got calls from a certain former detective asking for help from a certain mutual friend. She was the one who made sure everyone came home bruised and battered, but safe. Felicity made sure they came home safe.

It wasn’t until she was in Russia wrapping a scarf around John’s neck about to send him into a foreign prison that she realized love was involved. The love of a girl who was about to send her best friend into hell on earth with a shaky exit planned by a member of the Russian Bratva.

It wasn’t until she saw Isabel walking out of Oliver’s room that she realized that she was _in_ love. She had known Oliver was gorgeous and he shorted out her brain-to-mouth filter even more than most people, but she didn’t realize she had fallen until she felt her heart hit rock bottom.

It wasn’t until Oliver explained how the life he lead would keep him away from anyone he could really care about that she realized he was already in just as deep as she was and trying to deny it. Oliver was always better at denial than she was. Take, for example, the syringe. Even Diggle walked away from that one. 

 “Well, I think…” And for once, she almost did it, almost made Oliver face all those things he’d pretend weren’t eating him up inside, that she’d just been added to that list. Honest to God, she almost did. She had seen his scars, knew each one of them by heart, but she didn’t know how deep they really went. And she remembered an agonizing confession from not too long ago, the sound of a voice wracked with pain and guilt. “Five years, where _nothing good happened_.”  She remembered Oliver didn’t have any happy stories.

So Felicity did what she did best. She took care of Oliver. She’d tell him the truth he was ready to hear, not the one he needed to face before it was too late.

 

“…I think you deserve better than her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the hardest one to write. Felicity Smoak is the one person who wears her heart on her sleeve in the Arrow universe. And then, I thought, if your heart was always on your sleeve, would you even realize it was there until it was hurt? Also, she started babbling in my ear as I typed and Word does not grammatically approve of Felicity speak.


	5. Oliver Queen: A Love Deferred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traditionally, love makes you take vows. Since Oliver Queen is anything but traditional, for him, love does the complete opposite.

Oliver Queen

 

 

_Because of the life I lead, I just think that it’s better to not…be with someone I could really care about._

      It started with a phone call. Oliver was waiting to hear the jury’s verdict, but with the way things went, he already knew how this was going to play out. Even his mother’s lawyer wasn’t optimistic. So of course, Felicity would call to check up on him.

     “Felicity?”

     “Oliver.” The Count had Felicity’s phone. This can’t possibly be what he thought it was. Felicity must have dropped her phone while she was looking into the source of the Vertigo and the Count found it. She was fine and she was going to call him from the Foundry and tell him exactly that.

     “Is it okay if I call you, Oliver? Surprised to hear from me, right? Not as surprised as I was. You see, I find this not unattractive blonde getting all up in my business and what does she have on her?"

No. This was not happening. Felicity wasn’t the one making those terrified whimpers, those small little cries underneath the sound of the Count’s voice.

   “…a Queen Consolidated I.D. badge. Now, I think to myself…why does that name ring a bell? Oliver Queen. He tried to buy off me last year just before the Hood put me  _in a padded cell._ Ipso facto _Arrow_."

 

His fault. It’s always his fault.

This? Waiting for the verdict, Thea’s questions, his mother’s trial, being Oliver Queen, CEO…all of those were present obstacles that were in the way of finding Felicity. All obstacles to getting to her before it all went wrong.

 

     He didn’t even waste the time it took to paint on the mask. The Count knew who he was.  It didn’t matter. All he thought about was Felicity and those agonizing sounds of her trying to be brave, trying to hold it together.

     He could see her through the glass walls of their offices. She was so still and trying to be strong. Oliver remembered what she sounded like on the phone. Damn it, she was holding in her tears because of him, not the Count. She was terrified and the Count was _enjoying_ it, reveling in it. And what even was worse? That anything he said to comfort her right now would put her in more danger.  So he focused on the Count’s words about another player and didn’t react, couldn’t react to Felicity’s disgust and pain at the Count’s touch.  Oliver knew Felicity and Felicity knew Oliver. She became the picture of invisibility, small and quiet while Oliver became Arrow, angry, fierce and in control. Diggle had trained it into her, how to be a hostage. He hadn’t wanted Oliver to know, but Felicity had told him mid-babble when she was trying to persuade them to let her be bait for the Dollmaker.

     When the Count began shooting at Oliver, he was glad, overjoyed even, because every second he was firing a bullet at the Arrow was one more second he wasn’t hurting Felicity. He took cover behind the couch and waited for a shot, antagonized the Count. And then he heard it - restraints being cut, a struggle, a yell of "Come on!", and a small cry of pain, _her_ small cry of pain.

 

      All he could see were the vials of Vertigo pressed against Felicity’s neck. And then the words she had finally let slip made it to his ears. “Oliver, don’t.” she had cried. “Not for me.”

 

Did she actually think that her life meant less than a promise he made to someone he already loved and lost? Just to lose another person he loves now?

 

    “Quiet, please. I’m threatening.”

 

     He had a shot. He could make that shot. He has made that shot. But Felicity? Felicity was just too close, to the Count and to the syringe.  He can’t, he _won’t_ risk it. And he knew that he would have if it had been anyone else the Count had been holding.

 

    “Lower your bow.”

 

     So he did. He even dropped the arrow to make the Count think he was unarmed, instead of what he was truly doing- waiting for just the right moment. If Oliver could just get the Count to focus on him again, just him, only him - the Arrow.  “Your problem is with me. It's not with her.” He said forcefully, but not aggressively

 

   “Well then, consider this your penalty for making me go to Plan B in the first place.”

 

Was it so obvious that _this_ was the way to truly hurt Oliver Queen?

     

     The Count raised the needles to jab them into her neck and everything that was Oliver Queen disappeared. The Hood fired once. His target was dead. Oliver Queen fired two more times to protect Felicity, protect his girl Wednesday. To keep the body of the Count as far away from her as physically possible.

      Felicity was still on the ground where she dove to make sure she was out of the way of his arrows, another Diggle movement practiced, drilled into her instincts.”Hey,” he said.  She wouldn’t let him touch her at first. Shock. She was in shock, but alive. “Hey,” She startled at the sound of his voice. “Shh, shh, shh, shh.” Oliver said. “It’s all right. You’re safe.” He whispered to her. She finally raised her head and saw his arm bleeding.”Oliver, you’re shot,” she sobbed a bit as she gently laid her hand on his wound. “Hey,” he said, letting the mask that hid his fear, his caring, fall as he laid a gloved hand gently on her cheek. “It’s nothing,” he responded quietly looking into her eyes. And he meant it. 

      Oliver knew that his mother shouldn’t be free. Right now, he could care less. His mother was coming home.  Both of his families were still intact. Vertigo withdrawal now had a cure. He just needed to know, to see that everyone, especially Felicity was safe. The rest could wait until everyone had recovered and he had time to think about what today meant for him, for Felicity.  After Diggle left and after Oliver said good night to her, he heard her quiet voice call his name.

 

     “I, uh, I just wanted to say thank you.” she said. He knew if he told her it wasn’t necessary she would start a ramble, so he just replied with a quiet and confident agreement. “…and I’m sorry.” She continued.

 

     Wait, what did she mean she was sorry? He was the one who failed today. He was the one who put her in danger, puts her in danger every day.  “For what?” he responded in confusion.

 

     “I got myself into trouble again and you…killed him. You killed again and I am sorry that I was the one who put you in a position where you had to make that kind of a choice,” she finished.

 

      Sometimes, it amazed him what came out of her mouth. The lack of brain-to-mouth filter was so honest and so her that he couldn’t bear to stop it when she slipped, but this? This by far was one of the most surprising and _stupid_ things she had ever said. Even with her all encompassing intellect, she missed some of the simplest things. Of course, when it came to this and to them, what he did with Isabel, what he told her after had probably made her think she meant less to him than she actually did. Real contact was hard for him sometimes, but Felicity knew almost all of his secrets. And honestly right now, it was not about him or his secrets or the varying versions of himself or his promise to Tommy. Tommy would agree with what he had done. He would have taken the shot himself. This was about Felicity, what she meant to him and what she needed to know, needed to _hear_ him say. He reached out and took her hand and it felt more intimate than anything that happened in Russia. He filed that away for later, when he could truly process it. Right now, Oliver tells her the absolute truth.  Something he thought he would never have to explain. He gently squeezed the hand he was holding.

 

            “Felicity...he had you and he was going to hurt you. There was no _choice_ to make.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the chapter that inspired the idea for the entire work. Having State vs. Queen immediately follow Keep Your Enemies Closer was mean, brilliant, delightful and cruel all at the same time. 
> 
> Yes, the chapter title is a riff off the Langston Hughes poem. It took forever for me to think of a description how Oliver feels about Felicity. And then "Bang." there it was. 
> 
> I hope that I conveyed the idea that Oliver was well aware of his feelings, in denial of his feelings and trying to process his feelings all at the same time. Oliver seems like the kind of person who honestly believes he can will his feelings away with the sheer force of his stubbornness.
> 
> P.S. Also, does anyone find and/or love the irony of the craziest person, hands down on the show, figuring out who the vigilante all by his lonesome? (Note, I said craziest, not dumbest.) Everyone else had Oliver's help or Oliver taking off the hood, but the Count is like "There are no coincidences in Starling City. That drug buy almost a year ago and this stranger who happens to work at the company that buyer wasn't even running at the time are DEFINITELY connected. And I will throw in Latin to make it stick."


	6. Moira Queen: A Mother's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira Queen has just gotten her family back. There is no one in the world who will take that from her. There's only one person who would even have the audacity to try.

Moira Queen

  

_“I don’t care what anyone else in city thinks of me. I only care what you two think.”_

            Moira Dearden Queen never thought that opening a car window to breathe in fresh air would be a moving experience in her lavish life. Of course, the life that she has is full of things she had never planned. She never thought she would be the kind of woman who tolerated infidelity. She never thought she would be unfaithful in return. She most certainly never thought she would be a conspirator to an act of terrorism. One lesson she had learned well over the years; if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. She’d had a lot of time to think while she was in prison, time to reflect on her actions, her mistakes. Now that she was free, she could appreciate that time for what it was – a gift. 

            Seeing the disappointment and shame in her son’s eyes after he had confronted her about the Undertaking had been devastating. Witnessing his resolve and his determination to stop the disaster had been a revelation. As much as she loved Oliver, before his time on the island, he was irresponsible, spoiled and oblivious to the world around him. He didn’t care that his actions had consequences. He was cocky, impulsive, thoughtless. In short, he was just a boy. The person who had stood in front of her telling her someone in their family needed to put a stop to the Undertaking was a _man_. Seeing her son take responsibility for the consequences of his parents’ sins had given her the courage to hold the press conference warning the citizens of the Glades. Sacrificing her freedom for her son’s respect, for his forgiveness? Well, it was an easy choice to make.

            Being imprisoned had given her her children back. It had also given her clarity. The Moira she had been hadn't even known her own daughter had a boyfriend who lived in the Glades. The Moira she was now made sure Roy was there to support Thea even if it hurt her case, which apparently it hadn't. She had made so many wrong decisions, so many mistakes out of fear. Fear for her life, for Thea's, for Walter's. After losing Oliver and Robert, she didn’t think she could suffer through the loss of another child or another husband. But the shadow of Malcolm Merlyn had stolen Walter away from her and through her own actions and lies she had lost Oliver and Thea as well.   Five hundred and three souls had been lost to Moira’s fear.  She had been granted a second chance. She wasn’t going to waste it.

            In contemplation, Moira almost overlooked the fact they were about to miss their turn. “The freeway will be quicker,” she said to the driver. When he told her he had been instructed to drive elsewhere, she thought Oliver and Thea had planned some sort of surprise for her. It wasn’t until they pulled into an empty lot that she began to feel a sense of trepidation. She began asking the driver questions when he addressed someone else. The arrow that sunk into his chest reminded her of a night long ago when she betrayed Frank Chen. It was the beginning of all of Moira’s worst nightmares becoming reality. Malcolm was alive and he knew about Thea's actual parentage. 

           

          After coming back from the dead and acknowledging Thea's paternity, he simply let her leave.  So Moira tried to put Malcolm's existence out of her mind and live her life.  She went to Queen Consolidated. She could tell Isabel Rochev wasn't pleased to see her. After a frosty reception, she was grateful at Oliver’s suggestion to have a party to celebrate her return to Q.C.. She had been dealing with looks glanced her way, conversations stopping as she entered a room and the quiet whispers behind her back. She tried not to let it all frustrate her, but it had already been a long day when she heard his voice.

            “I hear you’re throwing a party. I didn’t get my invite.”

             Be strong for Thea's sake, she reminded herself.  “Where exactly should I have addressed it? Starling City Cemetary?” she replied.

            “I know that’s where you wish I was right now, lying beside my son,” he said. For a moment, Moira was incensed. Tommy had been like a son to her and a brother to Oliver. For Malcolm to use him as a ploy was unforgivable. “Am I supposed to feel _sorry_ for you, Malcolm? You killed Tommy. _You killed your son._ ” And now he wanted Thea to replace him.

             “…I felt so bad about betraying Rebecca’s memory that I left Starling, left Tommy behind. That’s when I made my way to Nanda Parbat where I found my new purpose. In a way, Moira, you made me the man I am today.” He said in his calmest, almost affectionate voice.

            Malcolm was always good at rewriting history to suit his purpose. It’s always someone else, something else rather than his own faults, his own flaws. It’s a sick truth Moira learned too late. Now he wanted to tear apart Thea’s life like he’s done to so many other people. He no longer has a son, so he'll take her daughter. To him, it's simple. It's always been his wants, his needs, his demands. And he always got what he wanted. She had once found his charisma charming. Those days are long gone and the Moira Queen _he_ knew with them.  She tried to appeal to his better nature, but there is none to be found. Thea is just a thing to him, something he can claim as his own. She meant it when she said Thea was _her_ daughter. Moira had already hurt Thea enough for one lifetime. She was going to protect her daughter this time around.

            Her pleading and begging him not to do this to Thea may have seemed weak to a man like Malcolm Merlyn, but he’d forgotten the one trait they shared. Ruthlessness when it came to those that they loved. Five years being a part of Tempest had taught her well. Even the dead have secrets.

 

            Moira was pouring a drink when she felt his gaze on her. The extra security guards were just a stopgap, a bit of a feint.

           “Have you prepared Thea?” are Malcolm’s next words. As if telling her daughter her life is a lie is like packing a suitcase for her to go to sleep away camp.

           “No.”

           There would be no begging, no fear.

           “You will not go near Thea. You will not speak to her and you will never set foot in this house again.” Moira said crisply. 

           “I set you free, Moira,” he said. “Your life belongs to me.”

           Once upon a time, Moira would have believed that. _This_ Moira knows that the only power Malcolm ever had over her was made of her own design. The cage door of her prison had always been open; she was just too frightened to step out into the light. Those days were done. It was the fear for her family she had used to build those bars. And it was the love of her children that had guided her into the sun.

 

         “I am through being afraid of you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After watching "The Scientist", I could not let this fiction go without adding it. So a five times fiction magically becomes a five times + one fiction. Even though it isn't the traditional "one" is the exception story. Moira Dearden Queen would not go quiet in my head. Watching her use all of the wrath, threats and bully tactics she learned from Malcolm on Malcolm. Truly wonderful to watch.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine own


End file.
